


Tangled Wings

by CastleWaif, KarkatWrites



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28642890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastleWaif/pseuds/CastleWaif, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarkatWrites/pseuds/KarkatWrites
Summary: injured Phil has some messed up feathers, Wilbur helps him.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Kudos: 114





	Tangled Wings

Philza Minecraft wasn’t a clumsy man. He couldn’t afford to be. Living almost exclusively on hardcore worlds and eventually raising kids on said hardcore worlds made him cautious, careful, aware of his surroundings and where his feet fall. Which is why he groaned more about the damage done to his ego instead of the damage done to his arm when Technoblade had found him sprawled out on the ground, fallen from a build that had gotten slippery overnight. He had been trying to build more onto his home, when suddenly he was looking up at the midday sky, with a new pain in his arm. 

“The cast is just a precaution, Phil. We need to make sure it heals properly even with a healing potion,” Techno had tried to comfort Phil, offering an awkward hand on Phil’s shoulder as he spoke. Even after fighting alongside each other for years, the two very rarely sought each other's comfort. Phil’s wings stretched as he tried to keep himself from frowning more. If Techno noticed the waves of embarrassment and discontentment radiating off of Phil he elected not to comment, instead patting his shoulder and walking away. 

Phil shuffled off of the bed, turned medical exam table, and began to rearrange his plans for the next two weeks. I’ll have to contact BadBoyHalo to let him know I can’t help him build that mob farm, and let Tommy know that I can’t spar with him for a bit, maybe I can direct him towards Bad, give ‘em both something to do, maybe I should begin to train Quackity to fly? Move up the lesson- A terrible itching sensation spread across his wings, interrupting his thoughts and making him freeze in place, save for a shiver that went through his spine. He looked towards the offending wing, the small tangle of feathers in the center of his left wing stared back at him. Providing him with an answer but also a new problem. He tried reaching for them with his left arm, but failed to even touch his wing, let alone dislodge the feathers. "Damn. What am I gonna do now?" He grumbled to himself, taking a moment to sigh. No point in wallowing, I’ll think of something to help, I’m sure. He reaffirms himself as he moves towards the kitchen table. He notices Wilbur sitting, book in one hand, tea in the other. Sitting carefully, he pulls out his communicator, drafting a message to BadBoyHalo.

His wings ruffled every so often in discomfort even as he tried to focus on the task at hand, which was proving more difficult by the second between not being able to use his right hand and being constantly distracted by his wing. His message to Bad sounds rushed, and, quite frankly, like he’s not sober, but he sends it regardless, hoping Bad will leave it alone. He begins his message to Tommy when another spike of itchiness and pain courses through his wings again, distracting him enough to drop his communicator onto the table with a loud thud, making Will jump.

“Phil? Everything good man?” Wilbur asks, trying not to show his concern for his father on his face but he’s never been good at hiding his emotions in his eyes, Phil notes to himself.

“Yeah, I’m ok Will, just a bit tired.” That specific lie is nothing new to either of them. Phil had a habit of not reaching out when he needed help. That always hurt the people around him. 

After a beat of silence, Will speaks again, “Hey Phil?” Phil hums in response, already trying to turn his attention back to writing Tommy about sparring. “ Can I see your wings for a second? I need to fidget with something right now and being able to touch your wings makes me feel better.” Phil hums again, though this time is agreement rather than acknowledgment, and begins to stretch his wings over the table, the messed up feather now agitated at the movement. His focus of not trying to show his pain or agitation completely blinded him to Wilbur moving behind him and beginning to gently play with his wings.

“You’ve got some tangled feathers back here Phil, that on purpose?” Wilbur questions. Phil only hums again, not fully trusting his voice between his son caring for him and the itchiness of the tangled clump of feathers. He tried to go back to messaging Tommy, but the feel of Wilbur’s fingers against his wings distracted him. 

“Yeah, this looks kinda annoying, let me get this for you yeah?” Wilbur promised, lightly tugging on the clump, being as gentle as he can be to the wings. The feathers came loose with some resistance, some staying intact and some falling onto the floor. Phil’s shoulders dropped and his jaw unclenched, sudden relief almost forcing a light sigh out of him. Wilbur’s hands paused, but then continued preening, talking softly about anything that came to mind. The smile on Wilbur’s face was audible. “We should probably move someplace more comfortable” He remarks after a beat of silence smile still audible. Phil nods and begins to push himself up from the the table, wincing when he puts weight on his right arm.  
“Your arm hurt, Phil?” Wilbur asked.  
“Nah, not much. Me and Techno got a regen potion in me before the damage became too serious. We’re really only putting it into a cast to make sure it heals properly.” Phil supplies, trying and failing to motion with his immobilized right arm as they walk into the living room and towards the couch.  
Wilbur gives a light chuckle, “I don’t think moving it is going to help it set right.” The two now share the chuckle, plopping down in a way that gives Will access to Phil’s wings, the latter noticing that Will brought his book with him.

“Y’know son, you’re in range to the smacked by a wing.” Phil jokingly threatens, grin present in his voice.

Wilbur lets out a fake gasp of offense, “My own father, plotting against me,” a hand moves briefly off of Phil's wing, for what Phil assumes is some sort of dramatic pose, “how ever shall I go on.”

The two continue to share banter until Willbur is done preening. He hugs Phil from the side. “I know you won’t take my advice, dad, but try to lean on us more, yeah? We’re adults, well, jury’s still out on if Tommy will ever grow up, but I’m an adult. I can give a little bit of support when you need it, ok?”

Phil leans back into his kid and sighs, letting a beat of silence fall between the two before speaking. “Yeah, ok Wilbur, I’ll try. Oh, and one more thing Will?”

“Yeah Dad?” 

“Thanks for your help son, with my wing, really appreciate it.” Phil smiles at his son, earning a smile from his son in return

“Oh, you’re welcome Dad,” Wilbur shifts to sit beside him, getting comfy on the couch, holding his novel in one hand. Wilburs asks softly as he leans into Phil “Hey, do you wanna read this with me?”

Phil throws a protective arm around his son, “I don’t see why not, where did you leave off?”

Technoblade comes back hours later with some game for a stew, to a mug of cold tea resting on the kitchen table and some feathers on the floor. He raises an eyebrow silently as he rests the meat on the counter. A faint snore beckons him to the living room where he finds father and son cuddled together, a book almost slipping out of Wilbur’s hand. He quietly picks up the book, placing it on the table, throwing a blanket over the two and leaving the pair to rest.


End file.
